


Climb of Faith

by sansastvrk



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, BAMF Sharon Carter (Marvel), F/M, Humor, Oneshot, Sharon Carter Appreciation Day, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, i actually have time to write bc of the quarantine omg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 06:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23466544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansastvrk/pseuds/sansastvrk
Summary: The key! The darned key to his apartment was in his bag. And his darned bag was drowning in the Atlantic Ocean....aka i climbed the building's wall to get to my apartment through my window because I lost my keys but wait a minute that's not my couch and oh my god did you just come out of a shower to inspect the noise I made when I landed into your apartment not so gracefully.
Relationships: Sharon Carter & Steve Rogers, Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers
Kudos: 25





	Climb of Faith

**Author's Note:**

> should I have studied instead of writing this? maybe. Am I going to resume my studies after this is uploaded? yes.

The key! The darned key to his apartment was in his bag. And his darned bag was drowning in the Atlantic Ocean....

Steve wouldn’t call it an unsuccessful mission. Everything went according to plan. Except for the part where Batroc boarded the quinjet unknown to him and S.T.R.I.K.E. and a fight ensued that led the pit to open and all the contents of the quinjet poured out. Rumlow groaned as he grabbed an unfastened seat belt for dear life while Sharon ran across the space the quinjet offered to gain momentum before kneeing Batroc and thus successfully pushing him off of the quinjet, maybe for good at long last.

The quinjet was still out of balance and she slipped and slid across the floor of the quinjet. She slid past Steve, who was holding on to the leg of a seat. With quick thinking he latched onto her utility belt and hoisted her upwards and away from the opening of the quinjet.

  
It was a dull spectacle, the fall of Batroc the Leaper. His title never seemed more ironic.

  
“Thanks,” she huffed.

  
Sharon turned out to be from those lucky agents whose bags did not fall out of the quinjet. Steve realized soon enough that his bag had fallen off, but didn’t voice his concern. Not until he stood in front of his door dumbfounded after Sharon wished him a goodnight and stepped into her apartment. The loud thud of her dropping her bag inside almost made him envy her. The loss hadn’t been that bad, apart from a good pair of sneakers and a SHIELD issued phone. He still had his uniform on but he had no idea what had become of his helmet.

  
Sighing, he left the building and went around the corner where he began his ascend to his apartment’s window. God help him if some unfortunate soul were to notice him now, but at this hour, the odds were at his side.

  
He rolled the window up and expertly maneuvered into his apartment....except it wasn’t his apartment. He surveyed the dark, but not dark for him hallway. There was no Ikea bookshelf to meet him, and in place of his lawson was a black futon, contrasted with black and red abstract art behind it. He definitely did not buy that.

  
He scurried away but not fast enough, for the owner turned the lights on, and Steve felt like a burglar, caught red handed. Upon seeing Sharon’s familiar face however, he heaved a sigh in the greatest relief. It would be easier to explain the situation to her. But when he scanned her confused face and her posture, any relief that resided in his mind blew away, for Sharon was wrapped in a bathrobe, the strings holding it around her body but not well enough. One wrong move would open the terrible knot. And Steve realized, that she had come out of the shower in a hurry; she still had shampoo in her hair. The foam had settled by now and she was very, very annoyed.

  
She slowly moved away from the light switch and mouthed a what the fuck but no sound came from her mouth. She spread her arms, waiting for an explanation. Steve gulped audibly, trying to form a coherent sentence, but how does one add logic to a situation like this. Steve half-wished to exchange places with his bag, but what was done was already done. Finito.

  
“My bag,” Steve started, “the keys were in it, and the bag flung out during the whole Batroc situation and I thought I could climb through my window but I think I misjudged the window’s position and landed here instead,” he let out in a single breath to clear any sort of confusion.

  
Sharon closed her mouth and opened it again, trying to form a sentence, but she couldn’t come up with anything.

  
“Why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t have your keys?” she said.

  
“WHAT COULD YOU HAVE POSSIBLY DONE?” his voice went shriller than hers.

  
“Give you the extra ones I have on me.”

  
“You, WHAT?”

  
“I handle your security Rogers, I have an extra key to your Goddamn apartment.”

  
She groaned and began searching her drawer, placed the key in his palm and awkwardly shut one eye.

  
“Can you show yourself out? I think I got soap in my eye.”

  
And with that he walked out of her apartment and closed her door behind her, feeling like an escaped prisoner.

  
Once inside his own home, his mind went back to Sharon in the quinjet. How she single-handedly saved the day. How she looked badass while doing it, kneeing Batroc out of the quinjet’s belly. How annoyed she was with the whole debacle. How her wet hair clung onto her throat. And with that final thought Steve smacked himself on the forehead and dragged his hand down his face as he turned his shower tap to the cold side. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry but it's midnight so I only proof-read this once, if there are any mistakes, from the bottom of my heart: my bad.


End file.
